


sanguine

by allechant



Series: nosferatu [2]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allechant/pseuds/allechant
Summary: he had the prettiest eyes she had ever seen. sometimes they were a rosy orange, just like the sunset. at other times they were bright red, like the colour of blood.
Relationships: Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Series: nosferatu [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779190
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	sanguine

She was given two warnings to heed when she first started living in this mansion.

Number one – do not fall in love with any of the residents. She could do that. She wasn’t here to find love, after all. She just needed a roof over her head.

Then there was number two – do not get too close to the one named Asmodeus.

It didn’t take long for her to figure out why. Asmodeus was a charmer, playful and flirtatious, and she could never quite tell when he was being serious and when he was just complimenting her to be polite. Talking to him confused her sometimes.

She knocked on his door, and as she waited for him to respond, she tried to steel her nerves, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. It had been a few months since she started living here, and she ought to have gotten used to this by now.

But then Asmodeus opened the door, his eyes half-lidded and his light caramel hair artfully tousled, and she had to keep her gaze away from the bare skin he displayed so gratuitously, her face warming as she tried to remember what she was here for.

The laundry. Yes. “Today’s laundry day,” she reminded him. Asmodeus yawned and opened the door wider, revealing his torso – her gaze followed the long, lean lines of his narrow waist and she shook her head a little, thankful that Asmodeus seemed too tired to notice her embarrassment. She didn’t want him to start teasing her.

“Come in then,” he drawled, stepping aside so she could enter his room. The small woven basket in which he kept his used clothes was practically overflowing.

“How do you have so many shirts?” she grumbled, walking over to the basket – she was very much conscious of his gaze lingering on her, and the back of her neck prickled. “It’s ridiculous. Do they even all fit in your wardrobe?”

“Well, they do if you know how to pack them properly.” Asmodeus grinned. “I’m rather good at squeezing things into tight spaces…if I say so myself.”

His playful tone made her think of things that sent blood rushing up to her cheeks, and she had to hide her face as she picked up the basket, hoping he wouldn’t see how flustered she was. “You should put a shirt on, or you might catch a cold.”

“A cold?” There was amusement in his voice. “How sweet of you to worry about me, little lamb. But I’m hardier than I look.” She heard him yawn and she glanced up at him then, confident that her blush had receded by now.

“What time did you sleep?” She guessed he didn’t come back until the early hours of the morning. Asmodeus was hardly ever home at night – he’d rather head down to the pubs and get his dinner ‘straight from the source’, or so he called it.

She shuddered at the thought. Though she had grown used to living among them, that didn’t mean she ever forgot how _dangerous_ these men were. A memory of the emergency rations they kept in the kitchen floated through her mind, clear crystal bottles filled with a rich, viscous red that was _almost_ like red wine, but not quite.

“I don’t know. Is it important?” He shrugged, then gave her a wicked smile, the kind of smile that had other women fawning all over him whenever he went out in public. “Are you concerned about me, darling? Because nothing would please me more.”

“You think too highly of yourself, Asmodeus.” She made to leave his room, having retrieved what she came for, but then he _moved_ , too quickly for the human eye to follow, and suddenly he was right in front of her, his hand reaching for her face.

She gasped, instinctively taking a step back, but then his fingers rested gently on her cheek and she stilled, abruptly forgetting how to breathe. Her entire body was tense. “You like to run away from me, don’t you?” he whispered, studying her – his eyes seemed to flicker between orange and crimson, and she was so mesmerised by them that she almost didn't realise he had asked her a question.

“Why would you think that?” The second warning floated through her mind and she flinched – Asmodeus, observant as always, narrowed his eyes and leant closer. She couldn’t help but think about how nice he smelled, even though he just woke up. A trace of cologne mixed with something _sweet_ , something distinctly Asmodeus. Her eyelids fluttered as his thumb traced a slow, delicate circle over her cheek.

His bare skin was smooth and flawless and tantalisingly close. Her fingers twitched. “You don’t even look me in the eye sometimes, you know.” He was so near her that she could feel his breath ghosting over her ear, and she shuddered. Her hands were still clutching tightly onto the basket. “Are you frightened of me, little lamb?”

A little. But she was more intrigued than afraid. She just knew better than to let him get too close – she didn’t want to become another one of his conquests. And with that thought, she managed to snap herself out of her trance, ducking away from him as she shifted the basket to her side, putting some extra distance between them.

“I have chores to finish. We can talk another time, Asmodeus,” she said, trying to keep her tone neutral. She expected him to tease her about her sudden reticence, and she was prepared to come up with some kind of rebuttal, but instead, he just sighed and stepped away from her, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Have a wonderful day, darling. Don’t let Barbatos wear you out too much.” For a moment she thought she saw his eyes darken, but then he smiled, and she figured she had to be imagining things. “He works you to the bone, doesn’t he?”

“He’s not that bad.” She laughed, relieved that he didn’t say anything to fluster her again. “I’ll see you at dinner. And please, stop throwing out so much laundry each week! Washing your clothes takes a lot of time, you know,” she scolded.

He had a penchant for silks and soft fabrics with the most delicate detailing and she always had to be careful with them, afraid that she would accidentally rip the fragile material. “I like it when you wash my clothes, though. My clothes always smell like you when you bring them back to me.” His lips curved into a smile.

She took back what she thought about him not flustering her. “Don’t try to use that as an excuse!” She narrowed her eyes at him, then turned away and strode out of his room, ignoring the peals of laughter that floated after her.

She busied herself with her chores for the rest of the day, finally able to take a break right before dinner – Barbatos said he’d prepare the meal for tonight, so she was in the common room now, watching Lucifer and Satan play chess.

It was always interesting to watch the two brothers play. Both were equally skilled, though they had differing strategies – Lucifer favoured waiting and watching, and he usually took on a more defensive style of playing, while Satan was undeniably aggressive, even when it was his turn to play black. She didn’t have a great head for chess, but she knew that it was far more likely for the black side to lose simply because they didn’t have the privilege of making the first move.

But she liked to watch Satan think of ways to overcome that disadvantage. Every time he played against Lucifer, he would choose the black side, and she wondered if it was because he enjoyed challenging himself, or if there was some deeper reason guiding his decision. “Checkmate,” Satan announced, moving his knight.

Lucifer sighed. “Very well. You win this round. Though I _will_ win tomorrow.” He glanced at her. “What does this bring our score to?”

“Thirty-thirty-one,” she answered. Throughout their regular chess matches, she had somehow assumed the position of their scorekeeper, and that was a role she took seriously. “Satan is currently in the lead.”

Satan gave his older brother a triumphant grin. “See? I told you it’s better to play offensively. Taking a defensive approach only serves to extend your suffering.”

“You only won _one_ game more than I did. And rest assured, tomorrow will mark the start of your losing streak,” Lucifer answered. “Anyway. This has been delightful, but I have to speak with Diavolo about something, so I’ll leave you two to clean up.”

“You’re always talking to Diavolo.” Satan tilted his head, and there was a strangely malicious look in his eyes. “One would think you two are more than just… _friends_.”

“I have no need to answer to your curiosity,” Lucifer replied. His red gaze was cool. “Besides, you have better things to amuse yourself with than my affairs, Satan.”

It was a subtle warning for the fourth-born to stop questioning; she half-expected him to ignore Lucifer, but instead, Satan glanced at her and shrugged. “Whatever you say,” he hummed, and with a quick word of farewell, Lucifer walked out of the common room. Satan sighed and relaxed into his chair, stretching gracefully – she couldn’t help but be reminded of a cat. “Why are you still standing around?”

She jumped. “Oh. Sorry.” She hesitated, unsure of what he wanted her to do.

He chuckled. “Don’t apologise. Talk to me for a while. I’ve some time until I have to go out.” His gaze lingered on her, and she swallowed as she settled on the seat Lucifer had vacated, suddenly aware of just how _intense_ his green eyes were.

“Where are you going?” she asked, trying to distract herself.

Satan exhaled. “Meeting Mammon. He said he needed a little help in town. Likely some scheme to trick yet another wealthy noblewoman into parting with her money, but anyone foolish enough to trust _Mammon_ deserves what they get.”

Mammon. The second-oldest brother. She hardly ever saw him – he stayed out of the mansion most of the time, preferring to linger in the town’s illegal gambling dens, though he seemed friendly enough. “I didn’t know you two were close.”

“Close? Not really. But someone needs to keep an eye on him. We can’t have an angry mob running him out of town now, can we?” There was something charming about the roguish smile on his face. “Do you like to play chess?”

“I like watching you and Lucifer play. But I’m not fantastic at it,” she confessed. She knew the rules, and she had played a few games before with some of the residents, but she had never won. “You’d probably get bored if you play against me.”

“Hm. How bad could you possibly be?” He leant a little closer, and she felt trapped by those green eyes, unable to tear her gaze away from him. “I’m quite interested now. Why don’t we play one round? Whoever wins will get a favour from the loser.”

“That’s not fair. I’d lose for sure.” There was no chance at all that she’d come close to beating him in chess. She’d be surprised if the game lasted even ten minutes.

Something flickered in his eyes, an emotion she was unable to identify. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be accused of bullying a lady. How about this? You get two moves every turn while I get one. That should give you a distinct advantage, shouldn’t it?”

She hesitated. Even then, she wasn’t sure if she stood a fighting chance, but he was looking expectantly at her and she found it difficult to say no. What was the worst that could happen? At most he might ask her to bring dinner up to his room for a month or something. “Fine. If I beat you then you will owe me a favour, right?”

Satan nodded. “And vice-versa. But don’t worry, even if I win, I wouldn’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

He seemed trustworthy. She didn’t doubt his words, though it _was_ somewhat discouraging to hear him talk as if he had already won. They began to play – he allowed her to make the first move, but even then, it wasn’t long before he turned the tables on her. It seemed like not even fifteen minutes had passed before he declared checkmate and she collapsed back into her chair, soundly defeated.

“I should have known better than to play against you, even with a handicap,” she huffed, eyeing Satan as he gave her a satisfied grin, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “That was outright bullying. Our skill levels are _way_ too different.”

“You agreed to the game with all its conditions.” His smile faded, being replaced by something more thoughtful. “And I already know what I’d like you to do.”

His favour. She wondered what he wanted from her. Satan didn’t say anything for a while, and as the silence stretched on, she began to feel uncomfortable, fidgeting a little in her seat. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Come here,” he invited.

She wasn’t sure what he had planned, but she approached him anyway. At first, she made sure there was a respectable distance between them, yet still, he beckoned her closer. When she was finally near enough, he grabbed her wrist and drew her to him, a little gasp of surprise escaping her mouth as she stumbled into his armchair.

He caught her before she fell onto his lap, one hand holding her up by the waist, his other still wrapped around her wrist. Her breath froze as she realised that she was right above him – his face was tilted upwards, his gaze fixed intently on her. “You’re so naïve sometimes,” he whispered, “but I think that’s what I find the most interesting about you. How you can continue to waltz around this place, completely unaware of how much danger you’re in.” His hand left her wrist, reaching up to her cheek.

His fingers lingered close to her, but he didn’t touch, and she tensed at just how _close_ he was – her heart was hammering in her chest, and she found it difficult to focus on his words. “Diavolo promised that I’d be safe here,” she breathed.

“There’s only so much protection Diavolo can offer,” he replied. His fingers drifted down, hovering near her chin now. Still, he didn’t touch her. “The thing about our kind is that when we want something, we become almost impossible to reason with.”

“And is there something you desire?” she asked – the words slipped out naturally, though her mind was racing, maybe from panic or nervousness or something else entirely. At her question, he tugged lightly on her waist and she fell forward onto him, settling comfortably on his lap. Her first instinct was to leap right off, but his grip on her tightened and she found she was unable to move.

“Of course. We all desire one thing above anything else.” He touched her chin then and she jerked, startled by how delicate his touch was – he tipped her head back, forcing her to bare her throat, and she stiffened, wondering if he was about to bite.

Should she scream? She wanted to – she had half a mind to. But he shushed her, almost as though he could read her mind. “Let’s not make too much noise now.” His voice was a murmur, alluring, enticing. “You owe me a favour, don’t you?”

“And this is what you want? My blood?” She had intended for her words to sound accusatory, but they lacked any real heat, and she saw his lips curve up – there was the barest hint of fang in that smile, and a shiver ran down her spine. “You said you wouldn’t ask for anything that made me feel uncomfortable!” she protested.

He nodded. “I did. But do you want me to stop?” he asked, and he sounded genuinely curious – she wanted to say yes, she wanted to tell him to stop and let her go right _now_ , but when she opened her mouth to speak, her voice failed her.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips against the hollow of her throat, and she moaned, twitching when she felt the tips of his fangs press softly into her skin. “I’m not going to bite unless you say I can,” he told her. It was difficult not to reach up and run her fingers through his silky golden hair, to just let herself sink into the temptation he offered. _It’ll feel good_ , his eyes seemed to tell her. _There will be no pain_. And she wanted to believe him.

His lips trailed down from her neck to her shoulder, one of his hands tugging at the collar of her shirt, exposing her skin to the cool air. She felt vulnerable like this, but there was no urge to push him away – her head lolled back, and she exhaled. “Why do you want my blood?” she asked, her voice the softest of murmurs.

“Do you know how sweet you smell?” Satan sounded almost plaintive. “All these times you lingered, watching me and Lucifer – it’s so _difficult_ to concentrate when you’re standing there, looking so innocent…and so distracted.” His finger traced a line down her throat, and she had to bite her lip so that she wouldn’t cry out. “You’re a precious little lamb hiding in a den full of wolves. Shouldn’t you be more careful?”

 _Little lamb_. The two words pierced right through her and suddenly she remembered a lazy smile and light orange eyes, eyes that sometimes looked almost the colour of blood – she nearly fell out of Satan’s lap in shock, thankfully catching her balance before she collapsed onto the floor. He stared at her, surprise in his green eyes, but she couldn’t focus on him now. The skin where his lips, his fangs had touched was burning hot, but she ran out of the common room, heading up the stairs.

She didn’t know why. She just had a sudden awful feeling, like something was sinking in the pit of her stomach. She went to Asmodeus’ room and tried the door, grateful when it opened without any difficulty. “Asmodeus?” she called.

The room was empty. She glanced around, wondering where he was – she was certain that he hadn’t left the mansion – but then suddenly the door shifted and she felt a lean arm wrap around her waist, keeping her still. Slender fingers touched her chin and tipped her head sideways. “Why are you here?” he breathed.

His voice was strained. She had never heard him sounding this way before. “I got the feeling that something was wrong,” she answered, and his grip on her tightened in response. “I thought I’d better come and check on you, just in case.”

“You have quite an uncanny sixth sense, don’t you, little lamb?” he rasped, and she felt his breath against her ear, making her shiver. “Did you know? Vampires are _very_ possessive creatures. Territorial, even.” He paused. “You smell just like Satan.”

“Are you all right?” She tried to turn to look at him, but his grip on her was firm and she was practically immobile. Asmodeus didn’t say anything for a moment, though he leant back against his door, slowly closing it. It clicked shut with a solemn finality.

Maybe she ought to be more afraid. He wasn’t his usual self, and Asmodeus was, at the end of the day, a vampire – but she didn’t fear him. This mansion was the home of several dangerous men, but he had never once made her feel unsafe. Granted, his casual flirting and his teasing smiles confused her sometimes, but he had never tried to attack her, never once even _hinted_ that he was interested in feeding on her.

“I’m not all right,” he finally said, his voice low. “I don’t like knowing that one of my brothers tried to bite you. I don’t like knowing just how _ready_ you were to give in.”

“How did you know…?” Her head was pressed to his chest, and she could hear his heart. It was beating fast, so fast that she was a little concerned. This wasn’t normal.

“I needed some air. When I went down the stairs, I happened to hear everything that was going on in the common room. Neither of you was particularly subtle, you know.” His grip on her slackened, but she didn’t try to step away, uncertain about how he might respond. “Weren’t you about to let him sink his fangs into your pretty neck?”

“No, I wasn’t.” At least she didn’t think she would have. She slowly turned her head, looking up at him, and noticed with a jolt that his eyes were now a bright, vivid ruby, the same shade of red as Lucifer’s. “But would you have minded if I was?”

His eyes widened for a second, then he gave her that familiar breezy smile, laughing gently, letting go of her – she would have believed everything was fine if she didn’t notice his fingers clenched into fists at his sides. “No, I wouldn’t have. Feel free to offer your blood to anyone in this mansion, darling.” His smile was beginning to look forced. “Though I would tell you to be careful. I recall losing too much blood can be fatal for humans.”

“Do _you_ want my blood then, Asmodeus?” He paused, glancing away from her, his eyelids lowering – his eyelashes were long and thick, and she was a little envious of just how pretty he was. “Because you’ve been behaving strangely ever since I came to your room. It’s almost as if you don’t _like_ the thought of me being with Satan.”

Under normal circumstances, Asmodeus would have laughed it off and told her to have a good time. That was simply the kind of person he was. He glanced up at her then and she noticed that he looked almost upset. “Am I supposed to be happy for you?” he asked. “Do you want me to laugh and smile, and pretend that everything is fine? I can do that if you want me to. If that would make you more comfortable.”

She paused for a moment, just staring at him. Finally, she sighed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, a corner of her mind surprised at the way this conversation was going. He was the last person she thought she would ever have to press for an answer.

Asmodeus was so carefree and easy-going most of the time. Compared to the rest, he was practically an open book. Or so she thought. “Nothing,” he muttered. “I’m just…a little tired. You should go and enjoy yourself. Do something fun for once.”

Was he _chasing her out_? Something was definitely wrong. “No, I’m not leaving this spot until you tell me what’s going on,” she retorted. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was so insistent on being told the truth – all she knew was that Asmodeus wasn’t his usual self and she was concerned about him. He refused to look at her, his lips pressed stubbornly together, and she looked around, wondering how she could make him talk.

Her gaze landed on a letter opener he had left on his desk, and a sudden idea came to mind. She didn’t stop to think about whether it was a good idea or not – she just picked up the tool and studied its sharp edge. She could feel Asmodeus staring at her. She glanced at him, and he seemed transfixed by the tiny blade in her hand.

She drew a deep breath and raised the letter opener. His warning shout came too late, and she cut her open palm with the blade, the sudden pain making her gasp. The letter opener fell to the floor with a clatter, and she looked up from the wound – Asmodeus was still watching her, something almost like anguish in his eyes.

The cut wasn’t deep. But when she clenched her fingers, the thin line of crimson wept, bright red trickling down her wrist. “Asmodeus,” she said. “Look at me.”

For a moment she wondered if he even heard her, but then his gaze flicked up to her and she stretched her hand out, offering it to him. “You can drink if you want,” she told him, wondering if he’d take up her offer, wondering if he’d –

Asmodeus grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him. But he didn’t do anything else, just staring at the bloodied hand in his grasp, his chest heaving. “What were you thinking, darling?” he asked, his voice husky. “You don’t tease a vampire like this. There are other ways to attract my attention. _Safer_ ways.”

“I want you to bite me.” When she said those words, she realised that they were true – that no matter how good Satan made her feel, Asmodeus constantly lingered in the back of her mind, his smile and his silky hair and his uniquely sweet scent drawing her attention away. If she was going to be bitten by anyone, if she were to find out first-hand just how _good_ a vampire’s bite was, then she wanted it to be him.

Infuriating, gorgeous Asmodeus who laughed with the careless abandon of a man who owned everything in the world. A man who knew just how handsome he was and who could choose to amuse himself with anyone he wanted. A man that most women could only dream of, who now stared at her with a look of indescribable hunger on his face. She wondered how long it had been since he last spent the night with someone.

“Are you sure, little lamb?” he whispered. “If you offer me something so precious, there’s no turning back. I’m not the kind who likes to share.”

She nodded. She didn’t just offer her blood to anyone, either. Her heart and her mind were ensnared by thoughts of this man – when was the last time a day went past without her thinking about Asmodeus? She couldn’t remember.

“How long has it been since you last drank?” she asked. His eyes darkened at the question; instead of answering, he raised her hand to his mouth, his lips pressing delicate kisses up her wrist to her palm. His tongue flicked out, running over the wound, and she gasped – it didn’t hurt, but that touch alone made her tremble. “Last night was the first night you stayed out in a while.”

She was surprised she could still talk normally. His nearness was making her mind fuzzy. “I didn’t go anywhere last night,” he mumbled, not meeting her gaze. “Just couldn’t sleep. I went out for a walk. Didn’t end up drinking from anyone.”

Before she could ask anything else, he bared his fangs and the next thing she knew they were piercing her skin, and a soft cry left her lips, the brief sting quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of pleasure that radiated from her hand to the rest of her body. “Asmodeus…” Did that breathy voice belong to her? She felt her knees give way, but his other arm caught her, preventing her from falling to the ground.

She never knew such euphoria was possible. She was floating, and her head felt ridiculously light. She couldn’t move any part of her body, and she didn’t want to either. He was slow and careful, not allowing a single drop of blood to hit the ground, and she whimpered when he sucked gently on the wound. He looked almost dazed, and she thought woozily about how beautiful he was, drinking from her like this. “Asmodeus,” she repeated, her voice weak, trying to reach for his face.

He released her hand, running his tongue once again over the cut, giving her palm a tender kiss. His eyes almost seemed to shimmer, and for a moment neither of them said a word – then he scooped her into his arms and deposited her on his bed, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “You should rest. You lost a fair bit of blood,” he told her.

“I want you.” She sounded stronger than she felt, and she saw his shoulders stiffen – he glanced at her, and she thought that this hesitance was very different from the Asmodeus she was used to. “I want you, Asmodeus. I’ve wanted you for a while.”

He sighed. “Darling…” But he didn’t resist when she feebly latched onto his collar, going along when she pulled him onto her. He held himself up, careful not to lie on her, and she tugged at his collar, frowning at him. “If I had known that biting you would make you behave like this, then I would have bitten you sooner.” He shook his head, though there was a small smirk on his face. “Aren’t you tired, my little lamb?”

“No.” She thought about the pleasure his bite had brought her and she shuddered, moaning again. “Come here.” She cupped his face and he laughed into her mouth when she pulled him down to kiss her. He lowered himself gently onto her, and she squirmed under his weight, enjoying the sensation of his body against hers.

“Are you only doing this because you want me to bite you again?” he whispered. “I have to admit that you’re confusing me. Just this morning you were running away from my room, and now you’re in my bed, you’ve given me your blood…have you been possessed by a demon, perhaps?” But she could see the hope that hid in his eyes, sense it in the way he pulled back, waiting for her to give him an answer.

“Do you love me?” she asked instead, and he flinched at the question – her hands reached up to run through his silky hair, and she felt him relax a little at her touch.

“Love is such a fickle thing,” he murmured. “I could tell you yes today, but would it still be the same tomorrow?” His gaze softened. “What I _can_ tell you is that I want to protect you. I want to see you smile. I like how you blush and turn away whenever I tease you. I don’t know about love, but you’re undeniably precious to me.”

The look on his face made her chest ache. “Who hurt you, Asmodeus?” she asked, sliding a hand down the side of his face to rest on his cheek.

He chuckled. “No one you need to care about.” His eyes darkened and she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck when he kissed her again, this time a deeper, hungrier kiss – her body jerked when he ground his hips against her, and she pulled back, her cheeks flushed. “Yes. Keep looking at me like that,” he breathed, his gaze flitting all over her face. “I love seeing how flustered you get around me.”

He ground his hips against her again, slowly this time, and her legs instinctively fell open, cradling him between her thighs. He lowered his head, his mouth trailing soft kisses across her neck, and her eyelids fluttered as she whimpered, getting dizzy from his touch, from his intoxicating scent. He groaned. “The women who flock to me pale in comparison to you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his breath ghosting against her ear.

“You’re a known womaniser. I ought to be more careful,” she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders when he slipped a hand between her thighs, underneath her skirt. Her skin tingled wherever he touched. “Asmodeus…”

“It’s been more than a month since I last slept with anyone,” he confessed, the ring of reverence in his words. “I can’t think about other women. They’re mere distractions, while I’m nothing but a fool, yearning for someone who only ever spurns my advances.” But his fingers inched up her thigh and she certainly wasn’t resisting now, her head jerking back into his pillows when he finally stroked her through her underwear. She was already wet.

“You must be really thirsty…” She wasn’t so far gone that she failed to realise the implications of his words. Asmodeus didn’t take his meals with the rest of the residents. He complained that bottled blood tasted stale. And if he hadn’t been with anyone for a month – “How did you manage to survive without drinking for that long?”

“I did feed. Sometimes. I just didn’t bed them. They didn’t interest me.” He nipped at her neck and she yelped, feeling his teeth graze her skin. “Their blood tasted so bland. They were nothing like this. Nothing like you.”

His fingers worked their way beneath her panties, and she sighed when he spread her damp folds, his slender fingers sliding languidly against her wet sex. “But enough about me. Tonight, I’m going to make you feel so good, you won’t want to leave this bed,” he promised. When she looked into his gorgeous eyes, she couldn’t help but believe him.

**Author's Note:**

> i know i said this was gonna be a smut but it really didn't go that way so too bad i guess I FIND ASMO SURPRISINGLY TOUGH TO WRITE SMUT FOR OKAY
> 
> yell at me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/dontenchantme)


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